


A Time For Believing

by zjemciciastko



Category: Motorcycling RPF
Genre: Christmas Party, Getting Back Together, M/M, Mistletoe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-25
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-20 07:25:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13141860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zjemciciastko/pseuds/zjemciciastko
Summary: “Look, mistletoe.” Jorge points to a single branch with little round fruits, attached to the ceiling by some hook. It sways with the wind a bit and a single leaf falls off, landing on the ground next to their feet. “Like old times, huh?”





	A Time For Believing

“I didn’t think I would see you here, Dani. Doesn’t seem like you kind of party.”

A few drops of wine spill from the glass onto the marbled floor as Dani turns, startled by the familiar voice. 

One of Jorge’s eyebrows is rised, if challengingly or questioningly Dani isn’t sure, but the small smile playing around his lips softens the overall impression. The suit he’s wearing, obviously designer and obnoxiously expensive, hugs his body just the right way as Dani’s eyes scan his whole silhouette appreciatively. What he’s seeing now is nothing even remotely similar to the outfits that became the topic of multiple jokes about Jorge’s fashion sense. Or lack thereof. The only thing that doesn’t fit the elegant look is the light streak in his hair, the red from Valencia long washed out, leaving a yellowish shade in its place.

“You’re right,” Dani confirms, the two of them now facing each other. “It isn’t my kind of party.” 

_It definitely is your kind of party, though,_ he thinks as he pats the jacket of his own suit, smoothing the little folds that appear whenever he moves. It’s not as flashy as Jorge’s, just one of those he had in the wardrobe for a more formal occasion, but nothing especially prepared for the party. Dani can’t help feeling a bit underdressed, a little bit self-conscious; he’s never been a fan of dressing up, but his outfit does pale in comparison. 

It doesn’t matter in the end, right? It’s not like he wanted to be here in the first place. Just couldn’t say no to the invitation he got in the last moment, so he did best with what he had. That’s what he tells himself, that’s how he justifies it when Jorge’s gaze stops on the tie he’s wearing for that little bit too long. 

Jorge hums, taking a sip of his drink, his lips wrapping around the glass. “Thought so. So why are you here, then?” 

Suddenly, that abstract painting on one of the walls seems extremely interesting for Dani; definitely more interesting than that single drop of alcohol glistening on Jorge’s lips under the light. More interesting than the way they part when Jorge speaks or drinks, tilting the vessel to let the liquid flow. His own thoughts are reaching a dangerous territory, wandering too far, to places he should avoid at all cost. 

Dani shakes his head a little, trying to focus on the words flowing out of those lips, not on how they look. Not the right place, not the right time. 

(No time will be right for that.)

“Friends invited me,” he states, glancing around in search of them. Scanning the crowd proves to be fruitless as he only finds faces belonging to strangers, not one of them familiar. “But they disappeared somewhere.” _Traitors._

In response, he gets a nod, Jorge’s head moving slightly. “Mine too. Come sit with me?” 

The proposal is as unexpected as meeting Jorge here, the Christmas party he wouldn’t normally be at, and for a few seconds the gears in his brain are turning, processing it. 

Dani wants to say no. Really, he does. The words are almost already out, on the tip of his tongue and ready to reverberate in the room, but there’s something that stops them in the last moment. Jorge’s...hopeful? His face is relaxed, but Dani can see he’s definitely counting on something. It’s not the usual guarded expression Jorge wears the majority of the time; his whole face creates an image of openness and faith in receiving a positive answer. 

And it throws Dani off enough to change his mind.

He clears his throat, hoping he looks less awkward than he feels. “Lead the way,” he agrees reluctantly and follows Jorge who’s manoeuvring through the rows of tables, heading towards the furthest part of the room.

They stop in a secluded corner, hidden from all the prying eyes and giving a sense of privacy that shouldn’t be available at a party but somehow is. “It’s here.” Jorge pulls one of the chairs out and waits, not taking it for himself. 

There’s an urge Dani has, to tell Jorge he’s more than capable of sitting on his own, that he’s not a damsel in distress, but he bites on his tongue. No need to start an argument. “Thanks.”

More wine appears in his glass, one of the beckoned waiters pouring it hurriedly before disappearing to tend to the other guests. And leaving the two of them alone again. 

Jorge’s unusually chatty today, sharing stories Dani’s only half listening to. The words flow over his head, not many of them actually registering. Most of his focus is on Jorge’s expressions, eyes widening and mouth moving, hands bending in various gestures. This openness is not something that gets shown freely, Dani is aware of that, and it fills him both with curiosity and some sort of uneasiness that he's the one witnessing it. 

Their relationship’s been better lately, much better than some years before, but this is almost too close to what had been before everything went to hell. 

And it scares him. Because he can deal with Jorge during race weekends, when there are millions of eyes on them. He can hold himself together quite well, hide what shouldn’t be shown to the public and only let the things that don’t have to be kept in private out. But when they’re like this, Jorge suddenly closer to him than he was a minute ago, Dani isn’t sure he can keep everything bottled in like he should. 

(He should’ve gotten rid of all those unwanted thoughts and feelings long ago. He’d have one less problem now.)

Maybe it’s the wine warming his cheeks up and making his head spin. Or maybe it’s Jorge’s hand on his forearm as he tells a story about something Dani has no idea about, too focused on Jorge’s face to take note of it. Dani doesn’t know. But either way, there are goosebumps on his skin and the air swirling around them is too thick to breathe freely. 

It’s all starting to become too much, too fast. 

Dani pulls the chair out, placing a hand on the table to keep the balance. “I need some air,” he states, because Jorge’s invading both his personal space and thoughts, coming in uninvited and messing the order Dani managed to make his life into. 

Outside he’ll have a moment to calm his racing mind down. Some breeze to cool him down and turn the rational thinking on again. And act like he should, not let the alcohol loosen him up enough to do something he might regret rather sooner than later, a dangerous thing. So, he starts walking, not waiting for Jorge’s answer.

Only he doesn’t expect Jorge to follow him, a step behind on the path to the nearest balcony.

Thankfully, it’s void of other people and the sounds of the bustle inside barely reach their ears, only a vague noise in the background. The image of the moon reflected in Lake Geneva gets disrupted by the little ripples created on the water; it’s going to be full in a few days, Dani concludes, leaning his back against the wall. The suit he’s wearing is too thin to provide enough warmth and his jacket is hanging somewhere in the cloakroom, so he sticks hands in the pocket, not caring if it might seem rude. 

He doesn’t dare looking at Jorge, only notices the movement out of the corner of his eye, body settling next to him. Not a fragment of their skin is touching, but Dani _feels_ him, feels Jorge's presence and his plan of calming himself down goes to hell instantly. 

Jorge talking to him doesn’t help, either. 

The voice is quieter now and it’s making everything worse, more private, more intimate and messing with Dani’s head and heart more, too. But today there’s no escape from it, it seems. So, resigning to his fate, he finally glances to the left, paying attention to Jorge who’s staring back at him intently. 

“Look, mistletoe.” Jorge points to a single branch with little round fruits, attached to the ceiling by some hook. It sways with the wind a bit and a single leaf falls off, landing on the ground next to their feet. “Like old times, huh?” There’s a smile making its way on Jorge’s face as he recalls the memories, obviously more fond of them than Dani is. 

“Yeah,” Dani agrees, evading Jorge’s gaze once again. “Like when we were stupid kids. First, thinking we’d have our own fairytale and later, when it didn’t happen, barely able to look at each other.” 

That party for young riders from years ago is almost as vivid in his memory as it was back then – Jorge cornering him in the most hidden part of the room, hand holding mistletoe above their heads, and stealing a kiss so remarkable that Dani can still recall its taste. Just like with all the others that followed. 

And just as well as he can recall the mess their relationship evolved into. 

“We both grew up. I know I did.” One look and the smile fades away, replaced with seriousness. “I don’t believe in fairytales, but I believe that we can do it.” Jorge tries to convince him and the tones slipping into his voice sound dangerously close to desperation. It doesn’t look good on him. Doesn’t fit the proud man image, the Spartan Jorge wants to be seen as, attempting to project it onto others as much as he attempts to project it onto himself. 

Dani counts the stars shimmering on the sky to focus on something, but there are only a few, the clouds covering majority of them. “I believed it the first time, you know?” 

He doesn’t voice the _Now I’m not so sure_ but Jorge probably gets it either way. 

The tension is so high it tunes out their surroundings and leaves out only the loud thumping Dani’s heart does and the weight locating itself in his stomach. Jorge’s shoulders sag and the energy he’s been radiating the whole evening evaporates, as if taken away by one of the wind blows along with the last dead leaves scattered on the ground. The change in atmosphere is almost palpable and for an unknown amount of time both of them remain silent, mulling over that last sentence. 

Jorge is the first to wake up from this weird state of suspension, taking a step closer and placing one hand on Dani’s shoulder hesitantly. “Please,” is all he says, but that one word holds more power than many multiple pages elaborates do. 

_Please, trust me. Please, believe in me. Believe in us_ is what Dani finds hidden there. 

The headache is starting to make its presence known, the dull pain spreading to his temples. The memories of their arguments, words thrown carelessly and with an intent to hurt are being replaced by all shades of Jorge’s smile and the sensations Jorge’s touch brought, something Dani remembers all too well. It still sends all the right sparks down his spine, Jorge's warm palm almost burning his chilled shoulder even now. 

“The King won’t be there to force us to shake hands when you stop believing again,” he responds, but he can already feel his resolve starting to crumble. 

It’s only matter of time before he gives in, he suspects. 

“That’s true,” Jorge agrees with him. Apparently, Dani doesn’t manage to hide the surprise as well as he hopes, since he receives a not really amused half-smirk in response. “Because he won’t have to. I won’t make the same mistakes again.” 

The confidence seeping through the words stops Dani in his tracks. He blinks a few times, the cold wind irritating his eyes, and the shivers raking through his body go completely unnoticed as he’s judging Jorge’s expression. It’s serious but unguarded, all of the emotions painted clearly. A rare sight. Dani doesn’t remember the last time he got to see that lack of will to hide anything in order to have protection against the word and the assurance Jorge seems to have in making things work. And he still has the doubts, they didn’t magically evaporate with one pretty sentence. 

But if there’s one thing Dani can be sure about, it’s Jorge’s determination and his undeterred belief in succeeding in whatever he sets his mind on. And maybe that’s what was lacking the first time they tried. 

His silence must’ve been a good enough sign in Jorge’s opinion, though. Suddenly, the distance between them is smaller and the scent of Jorge’s cologne is in his nose again, something warm and fitting. Different than the one he used to use, but no less pleasant. 

“So, can I?” Jorge glances at the mistletoe, eyes going upwards for a second before focusing on Dani’s face again. This time he asks, not like years before, but Dani thinks maybe it would’ve been better if he didn’t and just went for it. If Jorge cupped his face and crashed their lips together, taking away Dani’s breath and every thought. 

This way, the obligation to answer wouldn’t be here, at least. 

(Because Dani finds himself unable to say no.)

Throwing away the caution to the wind, Dani turns so that they're facing each other now. “Yeah,” he rasps, his voice sounding odd and foreign. It might get blamed on the alcohol, but his agreement is definitely a conscious decision, the judgement not clouded by anything. 

Jorge leans, tilting head slightly, and Dani’s eyelids shut even before their lips are pressed together – soft and warm, making the coldness surrounding them a bit more bearable. There’s no need for Jorge to ask to be let into Dani’s mouth, the permission is granted when Dani closes hands on the lapels of his suit, tugging on them to force their bodies even closer. 

Even now, when they’re no longer foolish kids in love, he still knows how Jorge kisses by heart. And he doesn’t have to try too hard to reciprocate; their bodies mould to each other automatically, his fingers gripping the hair at the nape of Jorge’s neck, while Jorge pulls him closer by the waist, barely any space left between them. Neither of them sure where one body starts and the other ends. 

When they break apart, Jorge’s cheeks are flushed slightly and his eyes are glimmering even in the darkness of the night. Dani wonders if he’s in a similar state. Worse, probably, there’s a single lock tickling his forehead, so his hair must be a mess, but he hardly cares how he looks in the moment. 

There are hands travelling from his shoulders down his arms, Dani can feel the pleasant heat through the fabric of his suit, and they settle on his palms. 

Jorge brushes a thumb over his knuckles and laces their fingers together. “Let’s get out of here?”

So, now it’s the time for the real decision. And it’s surprisingly easy to make. 

“Where’s your room?” Dani doesn’t even try to pretend that he doesn’t want to go with Jorge. Wherever. To the hotel or to the furthest part of the world. It doesn’t really matter where, not when he’s feeling giddy and warm and the happiest he’s been in a while. 

And once again he leaves the rational thinking aside, letting Jorge drag him into something that may backfire spectacularly right into their faces. It’s a risk worth taking, he decides. And when the hotel door closes behind them with a soft thud, separating them from the rest of the world, only the two of them left in their bubble, Dani has no regrets.

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas to those of you who celebrate! 
> 
> Christmas magic worked for Dani and Jorge, it seems. Mistletoe is really useful~ 
> 
> Thank you for reading <3


End file.
